Page 98 of Beneath the Stain

Mackey eyed him dubiously. “God. This is exhausting. I’m starting to see why people marry their high school sweethearts. Who wants to audition their lead guitarists more than once or twice a year?”

Trav winked. “Well, just think. These dates could be the last audition you ever hold.”

“Yeah,” Mackey muttered. “Like I’ll ever dothisagain. If this fails, I’m gonna be jerking my own chain for the rest of my life.”

“Well, I hope I’m a better option than celibacy,” Trav muttered. “Get in the car, Mackey, we’ve got a date to endure.”

Not an auspicious beginning, no, but they managed to banter all the way to the movie. The movie was, thank God, something with lots of explosions and hot guys and someone withmagnificentpecs wielding a bow and an arrow. Mackey could deal with a movie like that—some great scenes between the two leads, some poetry in the story, and a lot of adrenaline and cheering. And no real intimacy, and no chance to hold hands, especially because Mackey was downing the small bathtub of soda and giant popcorn that was half the reason to go to the movies when you could just wait for the whole thing to come out on DVD anyway.

But the other half was the giant picture and how that made you feel when you got to be immersed in the story, which meant Mackey couldn’t stop talking on the way out of the movie theater. “Okay, so you know the scene where the motorcycle is in the air, and you know it’s not going to make it, but the guy is the hero and youknowhe’s not going to go out in a fiery ball of death? See,that’swhat a musical riff is like, the hard-core ones like ‘Ramble On’ or ‘Limelight,’ because theyshouldn’tcome back together—it’s all massive music destruction, a, whatyacallit, cacaw… no…cacophony, right? But Iloveit when that happens, because then it just goes, like,kablooey”—he made big, vague gestures with his hands to indicate “kablooey”—“and then”—he laced his fingers together in a cohesive unit—“it meshes. The guy lands the motorcycle, the chord comes together to a perfect B-flat, and it’s like the universeglows. Because in that moment, everything is frickin’ perfect, then the guy recovers the motorcycle, the song progresses to the finale, and that heartbeat, that moment where everything is perfect, has gotta be over.” He took a breath, because that was a lot to say, and looked up at Trav to see if he was following along.

“Anyway,” he finished. “That’s why I love action adventure movies.”

Trav’s lantern-jawed face was inscrutable for a minute, and then his lean mouth sort of went soft like he’d just been kissed, even though no one had touched him.

“That’s why I love, uhm, action adventure movies too,” he said, but he sounded humble and not at all military and shit, and Mackey squinted at him, suddenly embarrassed.

“What’d I do wrong?” he asked helplessly as they made their way to the curb. The car hadn’t arrived yet, but he knew Trav had texted for it as soon as the movie had ended.

“Nothing,” Trav said, looking at him with that soft mouth and shiny eyes. “You did everything right. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

The car pulled up and Trav opened the door and gestured for Mackey to proceed. Mackey slid into the back, still puzzled. “But Trav….”

Trav slid in and shut the door, leaned over, grasped Mackey’s chin, and pulled him into a short, sweet kiss—soft lips, the brush of tongue, the whuff of breath on each other’s face—and then he pulled back.

Mackey gazed at him, lips parted, and tried to get a handle on what just happened. One minute there were motorcycles, and the next—

“Don’t worry about it,” Trav said gruffly. “It’s just that I’ve finally seen you not awful. You’re stunning. Don’t ever worry about it again.”

The moment stretched, and Trav extended his arm. Mackey tucked himself against his shoulder and relaxed. He could do this. This was just like watching television at home. He’d gotten used to that, used to the guys hanging out, talking bullshit nonsense, bitching about which clubs to go to and which movies they wanted to see. He and Blake had decided not to club for a while—not until the clean-and-sober thing was really locked in stone—because they could get into so much trouble at one of those places. But that didn’t mean Mackey didn’t miss the live music, and that was what occurred to him now.

“I bet we would dance real good,” he mused. “I mean, I’d love to go out dancing with you somewhere. Not to get high,” he hastened to add. “Just to… you know….”

“Music,” Trav said dryly.

“Yeah. Music. It’s what drives the fuckin’ world.”

Trav tightened his arm around his shoulder and nuzzled his temple. Normally the nuzzling thing didn’t turn Mackey’s key, but he suddenly found it hard to breathe, and his skin tightened everywhere. He turned his face to Trav’s and stole a quick kiss; then Trav stole another one, a little longer, a little wetter, but still slow.

Mackey closed his eyes, lost himself. Slow kisses, not going anywhere because Travis wasn’t going to bang him in the back of the town car and that was that, but sweet. Kind. Lingering. He was getting hard, and if they kissed a little deeper, it would be urgent, but for maybe the first time in his life, Mackey recognized that he didn’thaveto. Trav had told him straight up, no sex on the table today. Just them, like a couple. Like in real life.

Mackey pulled away abruptly.

“What? Wait. I’m sorry,” Travis said dazedly. His eyes were glazed and his mouth was swollen and slick, and Mackey took a moment to gloat.He’ddone that, and it feltmagnificent.

“Relax, Chief,” Mackey said dryly, rubbing that swollen lower lip with his thumb.

Trav closed his eyes, grunting a little, and that was reassuring. It wasn’t just Mackey getting all hot and bothered. Good.

“Why’d we stop?” Trav asked, sounding put out.

“What’s a happy couple look like?” Mackey asked, totally intense. “We’re dating—that’s real. I mean, you saw me throughrehab, and we’re waiting, ’cause it’s important. What are we trying tobethat’s so important?”

Travis tilted his head to the side, thinking, and some of that sleepy, gonna-have-me-some-long-slow-sex satisfaction slipped away. “Uhm, I don’t know,” Trav said, clearly buying time. “My parents, maybe? My brother and his wife? I want what they have.”

Mackey nodded, totally sober. “Awesome. What do they have?”

Trav considered him seriously, which Mackey appreciated. “Right after I got out of the service, during break from school, I got to see my brother’s wedding.”